I Can Get Up
by Cubit2
Summary: As Danny continues to heal from the nearly fatal bullet wound (in episode 8.10), a few little words (once uttered in the bleakest of moments) help Steve see Danny in a new light. An episode tag to the fabulous episode 8.11 "Oni kalalea ke ku a ka la'au loa (A Tall Tree Stands Above the Others).


A/N This one-shot was written for daveryship who asked me nicely to write a Danny bada** fic. I don't think this is exactly what you had in mind but it's what came to me and got stuck in my head so I hope you like it. When I finish Charade and catch a few minutes to myself again I will work on a true Danny bada** fic.

Very special thanks to Phoebe Miller for her editing prowess that helped whip this work into shape. She's a dynamite beta reader. Any mistakes are mine, though. 

There's a little tip of the hat to Scott in this one. I haven't done one of those in a long time. Hope you enjoy it.

This episode tag picks up just after where the fabulous episode 8.11 "Oni kalalea ke ku a ka la'au loa (A Tall Tree Stands Above the Others)" left off and it refers to the absolutely fabulous episode 8.10.

H50 H50 H50

Danny was weary and in pain.

He had told Adam that his chest didn't hurt, told him that he was fine. It was a lie. A lie made so that he could convince himself that it was true because he needed it to be true. He needed it to be true so that he had enough energy and stamina and agility to make Christmas special for Charlie and Grace. Decorating and wrapping and baking and even story telling (when you did it the way Danny did) took a lot out of you.

The bullet wound to the chest that collapsed one lung, coming when he was technically still recovering from the hemorrhagic virus, was a lot for a body to handle. Throw in the drastic, unorthodox, unsterile emergency measures that followed while they were stuck in the quarantine room and then the rib cracking chest compressions that followed his code blue in the operating room and Danny was understandably in a world of hurt.

The memory of lying helpless on the cold quarantine room floor, unable to draw a proper breath with his hands bound in front of him and his attacker's sightless eyes staring blankly back at him, popped into Danny's head whenever he allowed his mind to wander there. The frustrating unknowns taunted him incessantly. _Who was the man? Why did he want Danny dead so much that he sacrificed his own life for it? What had Danny done to him to deserve such a sentence?_

It was a terrible feeling knowing somebody hated you so much that he wanted you dead more than he wanted to live. He didn't really talk about it, but that idea haunted Danny, even sitting in his own living room joking around with his best friend on Christmas eve, his beloved son nestled all snug in his racecar bed in the other room.

"I guess that makes sense since I'm your Monkey's uncle," Steve joked in reply to Danny's teasing words that he was a gorilla.

Danny smirked. "Nice try babe, but monkeys and gorillas are different species, ergo you are not a monkey's uncle. However, since my children have somehow seen fit to adopt you into the Williams' family, I will allow you to keep the title they bestowed upon you." Too weary to make the effort to raise his hand, Danny nodded towards the mantle where four Christmas stockings hung side by side, one sporting the moniker 'Uncle Steve'. His children, not knowing that Mary would surprise her brother with a visit from her and Joanie, had insisted that they include Steve in their Christmas celebration.

Before Steve could reply with a witty comeback of his own, the pair heard the front door open as Grace returned from celebrating Christmas Eve with the Grovers. After greeting her beloved dad and her honorary uncle, Grace beat a hasty retreat to her room, cognizant of the fact that her dad still had Santa duties to fulfill before he could get to bed himself for a rest that she knew he desperately needed. Danno had kept most of the details from young Charlie, but Grace was older and wiser and she knew quite a bit about both of the ordeals her Dad had gone through. Will Grover and his family had been a source of strength for her during that time and it had most definitely brought them even closer. Similarly, Grace couldn't help giving extra long hugs to her Uncle Steve whenever she saw him for having helped keep her Danno alive long enough to get to life-saving surgery.

As Grace's bedroom door closed for the night, Danny sighed. He had things to do but little energy to do them but if he didn't move now, he would likely fall asleep where he was and never get them done. Wrapping his left arm across his aching ribs and using his left hand to clutch the wound Steve had cut into him that fateful day so he could breathe, he used the other arm to lever himself up. He failed. Pushing aside his ever-increasing weariness, he hid the best he could the grimace of pain that crossed his handsome features. His best friend had come in search of cookies – Danny's home baked chocolate chip cookies to be precise – and Danny couldn't deny him any more than he could deny his own children the gifts he would now place under the tree for them.

"Where are you going?" Steve asked.

"I'm going to get more cookies for a starving SEAL before you eat my hand off," Danny replied as, this time, he managed to maneuver himself all the way to the edge of the sofa before resting there a moment.

Seeing Danny's pained pause, Steve's protective side kicked in. "Tell me where they are and I'll get them."

Danny's pride kicked in with equal force. "There's no way I'm telling you where my secret stash of cookies is. They'd all be gone by morning." Danny forced out an uncomfortable breath and cut off Steve's next words before he could get them out. "I'm not an invalid. I can do it," he proclaimed forcefully as he pushed himself to his feet.

As his best friend made his way slowly to the kitchen, his parting words brought Steve back to that horrific day in the quarantine room when he, Tani and Junior battled desperately to keep Danny alive until they could get him out of there and into the operating room. Danny had said something then, and in the heat of the moment it hadn't really struck him, but now it did.

 _"We gotta get you up on this table, Danny. Okay?" Steve had told him._

 _"Yeah, I can get up," Danny had answered._

Steve shuddered. _"Yeah, I can get up."_ The words echoed through his head. Lying on the floor, bleeding out, with a bullet through his chest and a collapsed lung making it nearly impossible to breathe and Danny had said, "Yeah, I can get up." He had known his partner was tough from the first moment he had met him, but this?

Steve looked over his shoulder at the door Danny had just walked through and then, turning back, noticed the tree, the lights, the decorations (inside and outside the house) and remembered that Danny had arranged with Adam to come and do a "safety check" of the fireplace chimney to make sure it was "safe for Santa's entry". Plus, if Steve knew his partner as well as he thought he did, there was a stack of gifts somewhere, neatly wrapped and ready to be placed under the tree.

All of this for his kids. Steve marveled at the thought and then shuddered again at the thought of almost losing this amazing family man who had become ohana to him. _Why had that man hated Danny so much that he went to such great lengths to kill him, sacrificing his own life in the process?_ The question haunted him _._

Hearing several coughs coming from the kitchen and concerned about what was taking Danny so long, Steve rose from the sofa and headed to check on his friend.

Danny, after heading into the kitchen, retrieved the airtight box of cookies he had hidden away in a cabinet so that he could keep control of the amount of cookies Charlie ate. Grace was no longer a problem in that regard but Charlie had a sweet tooth and was often over-indulged when he was with Rachel so Danny knew he had to keep a firm hand on such things. With a tickle in his throat, he coughed slightly.

As he carefully removed the lid from the box and began to place more cookies on the plate, the urge to cough increased as his airways spontaneously began to close up. Danny struggled to ward off the cough, trying valiantly to maintain a steady breathing pattern. It was no use. The coughs came anyway, making a whistling sound at the end of each one as his airway constricted. The coughs were coming hard and fast now, each spasm sending shock waves through his still healing wounds, ribs and lung, as he battled to get enough air. Stepping away from the cookies, Danny moved shakily to the nearest chair and sat down, holding both of his arms across his chest to brace his broken ribs and ease the strain on his wounds, trying to catch his breath. With tears in his eyes and a red face, he looked up as Steve stepped through the door.

"Whoa, buddy. Where's your inhaler?" Steve asked quickly as his eyes searched the room for the device that could help ease Danny's coughing fit and breathing problem.

Danny tried to speak but he could barely breathe, much less offer up a word. He shakily lifted his left arm and pointed out the door to the hallway.

Steve's mind raced as he moved to the door while trying to think of where the inhaler could be. Danny could barely breathe and he needed help fast. He turned and looked at Danny whose watery eyes were watching him as he gasped for breath. In Danny's eyes he saw the answer. He would keep his medicine where Charlie couldn't get into it. If it wasn't in a high cabinet in the kitchen that would mean it was most likely in Danny's room, probably high on his dresser or in his bathroom. "Your room, I got it," Steve assured him as he turned back to the door and ran down the hall.

Fifteen minutes later Danny was no longer coughing and was now slouched in the straight back kitchen chair, his energy well and truly spent. "Thanks," he tried to say, but it caught in his tight throat.

"You're welcome but shut up," Steve replied.

They sat a few more minutes, with Danny breathing easier with each passing moment, before he attempted to speak again, his voice a strangled whisper. "I need to…"

"You need to shut up," Steve chastised.

Danny took a deep breath, tried to anyway. It ended up a small one but at least the whistle was gone. Then he pressed his hand against his aching chest. "I have to…"

"Shut up. Good thing the stitches are out or you would have popped some of them," Steve told him.

Danny glared at him and then taking as even breaths as he could he rose from the chair and turned to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I thought you told me to shut up," Danny rasped over his shoulder.

 _Well yeah, but…_ Steve thought as he rose and followed Danny out the door, down the hall and in to Danny's room where he saw him opening up his closet.

Pausing to catch his breath, Danny took another puff from the inhaler. He glared at several bags on the top shelf. He'd tucked them away up there to keep them from the prying eyes of a very curious little boy who fancied himself a junior detective. Now, it was out of his own reach.

He pressed his hand against his sore chest as he felt another coughing spasm coming. "Crap," he muttered. He couldn't even think about grabbing the presents without overexerting himself. Annoyingly, his freakishly tall partner stepped in. Nudging Danny aside, Steve pulled a big bag off the shelf and placed it on the floor with incredible ease. "Those bags too?" he asked, pointing to the other bags on the shelf.

Straining against the tightness in his chest, Danny nodded as he tried to take a decent series of breaths. He wanted to argue with Steve, wanted to tell him that this was his job because the gifts were for his kids but he couldn't do that. Not only was it painful to speak but he could see the childlike delight in his best friend's eyes and he knew that helping Danny play Santa was something special for Steve.

With silence born of necessity, Danny looked inside the bag that Steve had removed. Reaching inside he pulled out a boxed set of action figures then reached behind some clothes in his closet for a roll of festive wrapping paper adorned with cheery Santas.

"You didn't wrap them yet?" Steve asked, surprised, as Danny paused to breathe once again.

Box of action figures in hand, Danny sat down silently on the edge of his bed, sorely winded. He held his back perfectly straight, trying to breathe as much as possible. His chest ached; in fact his whole body ached but he had a job to do. It was an extremely important job to him because it involved his kids.

"Just came this morning," Danny explained simply, referring to the box he held.

As Steve proceeded to take the other bags down from the shelf, Danny dropped the wrapping paper to the floor by his bed and then eased himself down as well, gift in hand.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, not really surprised that the rest of the presents were already wrapped. Even as badly injured as Danny was, his children always came first.

Danny looked at him with a wide-eyed grin, belying how miserable he felt. "I'm wrapping my son's Christmas present. What's it look like I'm doing?" he uttered hoarsely, his throat as sore as his chest from the coughing fit.

"It looks like you're overdoing it."

"It's just a present, Steven," Danny argued, despite the pain raging through him and the fatigue dragging him down. All he had to do was wrap this gift, put all the presents under the tree, fill the stockings and leave some crumbs on the cookie plate so it looked like Santa ate them. Piece of cake. He affixed the last piece of tape on the present and placed the roll of paper to the side.

Oh, and he had to get to his feet. Shaking his head in frustration that that simple feat was one of the hardest things he had to do, he sat helplessly as Steve leaned over, plucked the freshly wrapped present from his hand and slipped it back into one of the bags. He bit back a complaint. He'd still be trying to get the presents off the shelf if it weren't for Steve's help - if he wasn't back in the kitchen passed out from lack of oxygen.

Pushing the vexation aside, Danny shifted slightly in an attempt to get up, and tried unsuccessfully to stifle the resulting groan. Any way he turned brought him misery. "Damn," he mumbled softly.

"So, are we going to put these gifts under the tree or what?" Steve asked, using sarcasm to hide his concern. He knew Danny would want to fight through the agony and manage on his own. "The kids are expecting Santa to come."

"What's this 'we' stuff?" Danny huffed back, easing himself into another position to take another turn at getting to his feet.

"We're going to play Santa."

"I'm Santa. You're a gigantic, oversized elf, buddy."

"I already ate Santa's cookies so I have to finish the part. You going to sit there all night or are you going to help me?" Steve fought the temptation to grab Danny under the arms and simply haul him to his feet.

"Yeah, I can get up," Danny professed proudly, as he somehow managed to do just that.

Steve looked at his friend with a mix of astonishment and awe. This man was the biggest complainer of all time and simultaneously the toughest guy he'd ever known.

"What?" Danny asked as he slowly straightened up, battling against the tightness of his still healing wounds.

"You said it again," Steve muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Not nothing. It's something. What is it?" Danny said as he grabbed a bag with each hand, wincing at the effort, then headed towards the door.

"That day in the quarantine. You said that same thing." Steve took the other two bags and followed. He really didn't want to talk about this but he knew Danny would keep after him if he didn't answer.

Danny had no idea what Steve was talking about. "Before or after that SOB tried to kill me?"

"After."

They stopped talking as they passed the kids' rooms and silently began to place the gifts under the tree. If Steve noticed Danny place a few gifts under the tree with Steve's name on it, he didn't say a word.

When the gifts were done, Danny proceeded to fill Grace's and Charlie's stockings with small gifts, fruit and candy before practically collapsing onto the sofa in an exhausted heap. Steve hoped that maybe, just maybe, Danny would let the subject go. He knew his tenacious partner too well, though. He was like a dog with a bone.

"What did I say?" Danny asked tiredly. He was breathing easier now but he was completely wiped out from the exertion. He turned his head to Steve who settled next to him on the sofa where they had each sat earlier. "And don't bother with the games. I'm too tired for games. You know what I mean."

Having been headed off at the pass, Steve relented. He leaned his head on the back of the sofa, mirroring his partner's position. "You said 'yeah, I can get up'," Steve uttered softly. "I told you I wanted to move you to the table so we could monitor you better until help came and got us out of there and you…" Steve stopped and cleared his throat, emotions getting the better of him.

"I said 'yeah, I can get up,'" Danny said, filling in the blanks and then offering an explanation. "I was delirious."

Danny had told Steve all about the things he had seen while he was fighting for his life but Steve had never mentioned what Danny had said. "You were a bada**," Steve replied, presenting a different interpretation.

They remained quiet for a minute, each comfortable with the silence.

When Steve spoke again, his voice was rough with emotion. "You could barely breathe and were bleeding out all over the floor. You had to be in excruciating pain and I wasn't sure if you were going to make it but instead of a panicked 'I'm dying', you said 'I can get up.'"

"I don't remember," Danny confessed. He remembered the pain, he remembered the fear and he remembered the visions. He didn't remember much else.

Fighting back the lump in his throat, Steve replied softly. "I do." He wished he didn't.

"You okay?" Danny asked.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"You probably should but you're a Neanderthal."

"I thought I was a gorilla."

 _Fade to black…._


End file.
